


The LoveLink Killer

by IceboundEmu



Category: LoveLink (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, M/M, Me killing people who might appear to deserve it but don't, Murder, Whodunnit? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28957872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceboundEmu/pseuds/IceboundEmu
Summary: Bodies are turning up across the country, some shot, some stabbed, some strangled...in each one the MO is different, each victim appears to be random.Until a link is made, someone known to the victims is using the App LoveLink, they talk to a match, discuss their lives, then the cause of their "troubles" winds up dead.
Relationships: None (yet)
Kudos: 6





	The LoveLink Killer

**Author's Note:**

> Officer MC makes an appearance in a different universe in a different role for this story, mainly because I like the idea of my MC in a uniform.
> 
> Sam is the first and central focus of the story, because it's his particular story I wrote first with a view to making him a victim of the killer's attentions, other characters will make an appearance as I work out who and how people in their stories should die and for what reason (though the first three are already written)
> 
> No, I don't know why the media hasn't made the link yet. But it'll happen eventually.

Roger Knight was dead.

The coroner had surmised the first blow delivered would have rendered him unconscious, probably killed him if it had been delivered with sufficient force, but whoever had carried out the attack hadn’t stopped at one, instead they’d continued to rain down blows until his skull had collapsed in on itself like an eggshell. Someone had certainly wanted to make sure he was dead.

The scene of crime was grisly enough, blood had splattered in arcs up the walls and across the ceiling, the post Roger had been holding when the first blow struck had fallen from his hands and settled under his corpse where they were shielded from contamination by the blood. The rest of the house was undisturbed, whoever had lain in wait, their motive hadn’t been robbery. The only preparation they appeared to have made was to yank the phone cord from the wall.

His body had been discovered by his son, though the neighbours had called the police at the sound of the boy’s screams, which had alerted them that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Sam Knight currently sat in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a blanket by one of the paramedics, who was hovering closely to monitor his patient as you attempted to piece together what his recollection of the evening was, Sam was white with shock as he recounted what he could remember to you in a voice which trembled and shook.

In normal circumstances the immediate family would be the first suspects, but the Knight Family were something of pillars in the local community, with packed social schedules which had meant they’d be quickly ruled out as plausible subjects. Sam had the benefit of a cast iron alibi, at the time his father had been meeting his maker, Sam had been taking part in a basketball match with the rest of his team, who were happy to swear Sam had never left the court the entire time, being their star forward. Sam hadn’t been due to return home that night, having a dorm he shared at the college he attended, but on checking his mobile had found he’d received a strange text message, supposedly from his father’s phone.

_Now you can be free Golden Boy…_

He’d held out the phone to you with quivering hands so you could read the message yourself and you’d felt your eyebrows raise at the strange name. Sam had noticed your expression and leapt in to explain it was a nickname from his team coach, he’d found it strange that Roger (was it telling he didn’t call him Dad?) had referred to him by the name, he hadn’t been aware his father knew it. So, he’d set off to see what Roger meant, after being unable to reach him by phone. Which had led to him stumbling into the nightmarish scene, after which his memory of events was distinctly hazy.

You’d pressed him further about the nickname. As far as he was aware only his own team knew and called him it during practice, it wasn’t used round the college, it wasn’t anything Roger had ever called him. On being questioned on any other significant relationships in his life he’d blushed, admitting he was using on online dating app and had matched with someone in town. The name of the app? Lovelink.

That was when alarm bells began to ring for you, carefully, so not to frighten him, you started to probe his mystery match. No, he’d never met them in person, they were too busy with their work to be able to meet up, yes, he had confided problems he might have been having in his personal life to them (though he’d shied like a frightened horse when you tried to ask whether they involved Roger), No, he’d never suggested Roger would be better off dead, though his match had been somewhat vehement in their opinions at the way he’d been treated (abused, your mind helpfully filled in) growing up. He’d eventually grown distressed at the line of questioning, offering you his phone, which you bagged, knowing that the conversations would be examined with a fine toothcomb by the forensic department, though you were already sure Sam had in no way encouraged his father’s killer’s actions. The distress Sam was showing was the deciding factor in the paramedic ending the interview, letting you know that Sam would be taken to hospital and kept under sedation after the shock he’d experienced, so further questions would need to be posed there, under the observation of a doctor.

You’d jumped down from the ambulance, watched the paramedic slam the doors shut, then the vehicle pulled away, heading in the direction of the town hospital. Not a moment later the body was removed from the house by the coroner’s team, you wondered whether they’d waited for the ambulance to depart before carrying out the grisly task, Sam at least deserved to be spared the sight of what remained of his primary caregiver, you made a note to check where his mother was, Sam hadn’t mentioned her when listing his relatives.

“So, anything from the son?”

You looked up from your notebook at your fellow officer’s question, flipping it shut before you answered.

“Could be the Lovelink Killer.”

He froze at that, turning to give you his full attention.

“You’re kidding. Out here?”

You shrugged at him, waving the bagged phone at him, where even as you watched a notification popped up the Sam’s mystery match had chosen, at that moment, to un-match him and end their association.

It wasn’t until a couple of days later you saw Sam again, when he wandered into the police station and asked to speak to you. You’d heard he’d been kept in the hospital for a few days following his grisly discovery, sedated for the first twenty-four hours so that he could sleep and recover from the trauma of the experience. Another pair of officers had been assigned to question him again once the hospital had green-lighted it but had immediately gotten themselves thrown out when their “questioning” had driven Sam to a breakdown. You weren’t sure what accusations had been levelled at him, just that they were currently suspended pending full investigation of the complaint, which had been delivered by one of the doctors present at the time, rather than his family, who were conspicuous in their absence.

So, you found yourself sitting in an interview room with a lonely and frightened boy, wondering whether he’d remembered something that would help you but unsure how to pose the question to him. You knew you were under observation, the one-way glass in the room gave no indication of how many people were occupying the room opposite, but you thought you could feel their combined stare through the mirrored glass. Beside you the voice recorder whirred away to itself, capturing the silent air between the two of you. Sam refused to make eye contact with you, drawing patterns on the surface of the table with his finger, ignoring the glass of water you’d placed in front of him.

“Is it my fault Roger is dead?”

That was a hell of a way to break the ice. You were momentarily struck dumb by where the question had come from, till with a sick certainty you realised what had led him to that line of thought. No wonder he’d broken down at the hospital if that line of thought had been suggested to him. Also explained the complaint, if Sam had been left walking around with that thought for days there was no telling the mental damage he’d inflicted on himself. The least you could do was to offer him a balm for his wounds.

“No. You were emphatic you’d never wanted him hurt, despite what he did to you.”

He looked relived at your assertion, though a little puzzled by how you’d chosen to end the sentence. You’d been given the task of reading through the conversations he’d had with his mystery match and had time to draw your own conclusions at Roger’s behaviour to his son, which had cemented your belief he’d been an abusive bastard whilst alive. Despite that though, he hadn’t deserved the death that had been bestowed on him, no one deserved to be murdered. Reading the responses with the benefit of hindsight you could see the warning flags in the responses Sam had received, which had eventually culminated in Sam being the one to discover what remained of his father and suffer the effects afterwards.

“What he did?”

You reminded yourself that at no point had there been any attempt to warn Sam his father’s behaviour wasn’t that of a normal, loving parent. Still, you had to choose your words carefully not to upset him unduly, this was still his family you were talking about.

“I read your conversations Sam. Your father held a lot of power over what you did, a lot of it would be classed as controlling or abusive to an outside observer. At times it seemed like he was trying to shape you into what he wanted to be in his life.”

That you supposed was the best way you could put it. Sam looked troubled by your words but seemed to be giving them careful consideration.

“So, for that, someone decided he should die? That it gave them the right to kill him?”

Though the question was probably for the most part rhetorical you still decided to attempt to answer it for him, lest he leave still believing he’d somehow brought this on.

“No one deserves to be murdered, and though there’s reasons that people might consider justifiable or mitigate someone’s behaviour when it happens, it doesn’t lessen the act, nor does it give a stranger the right to use it as they deem right to solve other people’s problems, real or perceived.”

He looked somewhat satisfied with the answer, though you might have been more vehement that you’d intended to be, considering he’d sat up ramrod straight and was making cautious eye contact with you for the first time. The hand drawing patterns had stilled, you saw the tremor in it, even as Sam visibly struggled to maintain his composure in front of you, soundlessly you pushed a box of tissues towards him, which he eyed warily. You figured the mantra “boys don’t cry” had been a predominant feature in his life, before watching him crumble, at which point you stopped the recording, figuring he didn’t need his distress recorded for posterity. As Sam calmed himself again, trying to stem the flow of tears with tissues, you busied yourself with obtaining him a hot drink, figuring he could at least warm his hands on the cup if he didn’t feel like drinking it.

“Good work Officer Walker.”

You jumped at the unexpected voice from behind you, almost dousing yourself with hot tea, but biting back on your impulse to swear at the fright you’d been given as you associated it with your chief. Turning smartly on your heel you realised that he wasn’t alone, with him was a woman you recognised vaguely as having something to do with Internal Affairs, and you figured they’d been the mystery stares you’d felt as you’d played at counselling Sam.

“Thank you sir?”

Though you weren’t sure what the compliment was for you decided acknowledging it was better than coming across as conceited by remaining silent on the subject. They moved aside as you approached the door so you could pass with the mugs you were carrying, and you could feel their gazes on your back as you re-entered the room where you’d left Sam. The prickling sensation between your shoulder blades continued, even after you shut the door to block their line of sight. Placing the mugs on the table you angled one towards Sam, who wrapped his hands round it gratefully, though he made no effort to lift the steaming liquid towards his mouth. His choice of clothing for the weather conditions was curious you thought, in both your encounters with him he’d dressed as though due on a basketball court, in the cool air of the interview room you could see his skin was goose-pimpled, he must have been freezing but had made no complaint over his discomfort.

Making a snap decision you left him again, jogging over to your desk and snagging the blanket you kept in your bottom drawer for when sitting doing paperwork caused your own poor circulation to act up, returning to the room and dropping the knitted fabric over his shoulders (which he jerked in surprise at, you cursed your clumsiness), before fiddling with the controls of the air conditioning, which rewarded you with an icy blast of air before it accepted your instructions and began to sluggishly pump heated air into the room. You turned back to Sam, motioning at the recording device, then when he nodded, you flicked it back on.

“Sorry, you looked cold, so I just thought you’d appreciate something to cover your shoulders with. My Mom made it for me…your Mom ever make you something?”

It was the only way you could think of to introduce the subject to the conversation, the interview at the hospital had been so brief your file was still missing key information that should have been confirmed. Sam shook his head at your question, before fleshing out his negative response and making you wish you’d never asked in the first place.

“She died whilst I was still a baby. I don’t remember her; Roger never even kept a picture of her in the house I could look at.”

Yet another example of Roger’s cruelty you wondered? Sam would probably find his mother’s possessions stored in the loft, or some other area of the house that he hadn’t previously been allowed access to, since he’d be inheriting the family home and Roger’s assets under the terms of his will. You wondered if anyone had broached the subject with him and how he’d react to the thought of having to revisit the property after his last memory of the place was so horrific.

“Sorry to hear that.”

The apology was automatic, Sam shrugged it off.

“I don’t remember her at all, so it doesn’t hurt. But Roger…”

Yeah, he’d be having nightmares about that for a long time to come, if not for the rest of his life. You could empathise with that. Some of the things you’d had the misfortune to see came back to haunt you in the early hours of the morning and the drugged and dreamless sleep that came from sleeping pills was the only way you could find rest. You wondered if he too would grow to loathe people telling him the memories would fade given time, that he’d somehow get used to the concept of finding the ruined remains of what had previously been a living, breathing human.

“Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

He’d given you information, you figured it was only fair if you reciprocated. He thought for a minute, expression twisted with seriousness.

“The police who visited the hospital. They said something about me trying to pass it off as the work of a serial killer?”

You could have sworn, though you were prevented from answering by a voice that came from the speaker situated behind you.

“Officer Walker, could you step out into the corridor for a moment?”

You nodded to signal your understanding, before switching off the recording device again and motioning to Sam you’d be back in a second. He was giving the mirrored glass a serious study, you wondered whether it had only just occurred to him there might be someone else watching you talk. Argued he wasn’t a fan of crime drama.

You stepped out into the hall to find the Chief waiting there for you, the expression on his face indicating he was not amused to find that Sam had any sort of knowledge of information that the police force across the country had strived to keep out of the mainstream media for fear of inciting mass panic. You figured you wouldn’t be seeing the officers who’d been present at the hospital interview for a long while, if ever again. You shut the door to the interview room firmly behind you, noting that both the Chief and Lady from Internal Affairs (you’d have to start learning their names at some point) checked to make sure it was sealed and that there was no one in the corridor to overhear before talking.

“Officer Walker, you’re being reassigned from the case.”

You kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to object to any decision made by your superior before you heard the justification of why you were being moved.

“From now on your sole responsibility is to remain with Mr Knight and make sure nothing of what he just said hits the media. Understand?”

You guessed not only would it cause mass panic but Lovelink would probably take legal action against any police department that implied they might have a problem with serial killers stalking their dating site.

“Yes Sir.”

The woman from Internal Affairs looked somewhat stunned at your acceptance without argument, which might have accounted for her next question.

“Aren’t you going to ask what to tell Mr Knight?”

“I was planning to tell him I’d been assigned to his personal protection in case of any reprisal attacks from the perpetrator responsible for his father’s murder, and to prevent any intrusion from the press during his grieving process. Plus, it’s probably safer for him to remain at a safe house and stay away from the campus for the time being.”

That raised a grin from your chief, who nodded his assent at your explanation for Sam, though you doubted that Sam would offer any objection to having some company, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. You were already compiling a list in your head of what you’d need to encourage him to pack and where it would be best for him to stay, he looked the type to appreciate some peace and quiet, though nowhere too isolated or he’d probably get spooked that there was a risk to his safety. Limiting his social contact would minimise the risk of information being leaked, assuming the media didn’t connect the dots from anything they gleaned from his friends. The Knight Family had closed ranks as the press descended, unfortunately they appeared to have locked Sam out with it.

“I told you Officer Walker was good.”

You allowed yourself to smile as they turned to leave you again, opening the door of the interview room with a mind to collecting Sam, then the keys for your home for the foreseeable future, then whatever possessions you would both need the survive at least a couple of weeks together.


End file.
